"And then," Bramwell continued, lowering his voice as if revealing the secret of the universe, "our geologist had to escape the boulder shaped like a giant hamster. Don't ask why the hamster-boulder existed. Mountains are weird, and no one can explain it, not even the squirrels."
He spun in place, arms flailing, mimicking the geologist dodging imaginary obstacles. "He darted past trees, puddles, and very judgmental squirrels, crystal clutched to his chest! But he wouldn't have made it without his forest ranger whispering directions from above, dodging mud, and—get this—occasionally tossing a pinecone to distract the goat army. True story. Well, mostly true."
The boy giggled again, burying his face briefly into Bramwell's arm, and Bramwell leaned back, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. "See? Adventure is fun. You can be scared, you can laugh, and sometimes you have to pretend the mountain goats are just grumpy neighbors."
I offered a small wave to both the kid and Bramwell who beamed at me when he saw me, then I pointed gently to my ranger badge and gave a thumbs-up to the boy. He watched me, wary but curious, still holding onto Bramwell beside him.
"Oh my God, Warden of the Wildwood. Look kiddo, that's Ranger April," he said, nodding toward me like he was introducing royalty. "She's on a first-name basis with every pine tree in a ten-mile radius. The oaks respect her. The birches fear her."
The boy let out a small, surprised laugh and peeked at me again.
I gave a tiny shrug as if to say he might be exaggerating. Just a little.
I signaled that it was time to complete the report and indicated that Bramwell should give his statement as the one who found the child. The officers handled the paperwork, medical check, and family contact while I stayed nearby, making sure the process moved gently and the boy felt safe.
When the parents arrived and were reunited with the child, Bramwell finally let go. As the family headed out, the boy twisted around in his mother's arms and shouted, "Bye, Rock Hero!"
Bramwell puffed out his chest and gave a solemn bow. "Go bravely, tiny adventurer. May your juice boxes be forever cold, and your cookies never soggy.."
One of the officers let out a laugh behind the desk.
Bramwell leaned slightly toward me, lowering his voice. "For the record, my underground lair is mostly just a truck with too many granola bars and a suspicious number of mismatched socks."
A smile slipped out of me before I could stop it, small and quick.
He caught it and smiled back. "Ah, there's the smile," he said. "It's more disruptive than a rogue boulder in a canyon."
"Well," he added, rocking back on his heels, "since we've both successfully saved the day in our respective professional capacities... and since it is very nearly lunchtime..." He glanced toward the door, then back at me. "Would the Daughter of the Evergreens consider joining a humble rock enthusiast for food that is probably ninety percent carbs?"
I hesitated, kept looking at him, and he didn't rush me, just waited patiently. Finally, I nodded.
His eyes practically sparkled.
"Fantastic," he said, grinning ear to ear. "I know a place and I promise, the food there is almost as impressive as your smile."
Chapter 14: Sunstone Afternoon
Outside the station, the afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the pavement. Bramwell started off beside me with his usual easy momentum, long legs eating up the distance without him even noticing. I had to take slightly quicker steps to keep level.
He glanced down, blinked like this information had just reached his brain, and immediately slowed.
"Apologies," he said lightly. "I forget I have the stride of a migrating giraffe."
I shook my head a little, but the corner of my mouth lifted.
We walked a few steps in comfortable quiet before he cleared his throat softly.
"Alright," he said, tone turning mock-serious. He gestured ahead with one hand. "There's a small lunch place a couple streets down."
He glanced at me, expression gentling. "But that's just a suggestion. If you'd rather somewhere quieter, or less crowded, or even just a bench outside with takeaway, we can absolutely do that. I am extremely flexible..Well not physically. Physically I'd fold like an apology note if I sneezed wrong."
I smiled and gave a small nod. He didn't start walking yet. "The lunch spot is okay?" he checked, just to be sure.
I nodded again. He met my eyes, steady. "Great," he said. "If at any point you want to change plans, we will."
As we walked, he kept his pace matched to mine now, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. When we reached the place, he opened the door and stepped aside with a small, playful bow. "After you, Duchess of the Ferns." he said.
Inside, he paused instead of heading straight for a table. "Where would you feel most comfortable?" he asked quietly. "Near the window, more in the middle, or tucked somewhere along the wall? I have advanced training in all forms of sitting."
